Breathe Again
by Nicole Borgin
Summary: When Ron dies, leaving Hermione to raise their son alone, can an unexpected friendship make her realize that life is still worth living? FWHG. BACK FROM HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

AN- Hello everyone! I know you all probably thought this fic had trailed off into nothingness, but it hasn't! I have ANOTHER edited chapter below, and several new ones are coming soon! I've also begun posting the story on as [something clever]! I'm so excited to be working on this story that has been lying dormant for FAR too long!

Disclaimer- I don't own the world of Harry Potter. All the credit goes to the ever fabulous JK Rowling.

Summary: When Hermione's world falls apart, will she ever be able to recover? And can an unlikely friendship with Fred Weasley help heal her broken heart?

Chapter One

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, swear to love, honor, and cherish this man, until death do you part?"

"I do."

"Do you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, swear to love, honor, and cherish this woman, until death do you part?"

"I do."

"Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!"

_Click. Rewind. Play. _

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, swear to love, honor, and cherish this man, until death do you part?"

"I do."

_Click. Rewind. Play._

"I do."

_Click. Rewind. Play._

"I do."

_Click. Rewind. Play._

"I-"

Before the small television could continue any further, a remote was chucked at it so hard that the screen cracked, and consequently shut it off.

Hermione Weasley, the one responsible for chucking the remote, sat on the sofa, silent, and absentmindedly patting her very pregnant stomach as she settled back into the numbness she'd grown accustomed to over the past few days. She was a shadow, a woman on autopilot. All she could do was watch her wedding video like a character looking in on the first page of her story, from the last. Death had taken Ron from her faster than either of them had ever expected. Only two days earlier, they had been parted forever.

Staring at the cracked screen of the telly that Ron had bought to celebrate renting out their first flat, not for the first time, she thought of the moment that changed everything…

&

It had been a good day. A great day even.. After weeks of research, she had finally diagnosed one of her patients with a rare, but treatable disease, felt the baby moving more than ever, and her hair was looking unusually good.

Toward the end of the day, she spotted a familiar mane of red hair, and quickly rushed over to say hello.

"Fred! It's great to see you. I thought you were staying in France until next week!" Hermione exclaimed, wrapping her brother-in-law in a hug (at least as much as a seven months along woman can hug). He and George had been traveling abroad for the past three months, leaving Ron in charge of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Ron loved helping out in the shop, and hadn't minded taking a leave of absence from the ministry to help out his two brothers. In all honesty, it could be hard being an auror in Harry Potter's shadow, where the sun rarely shown. It wasn't that Harry _wanted _all of the attention he received, he just… did, and at times, it was a little hard for Hermione's husband to stomach.

Momentarily lost in her thoughts, Hermione took awhile to realize that her brother-in-law wasn't responding to her embrace.

In fact, he wasn't at all like his usual self. Rather than making a remark about how she must have hidden a quaffle where her stomach should be, or some such thing, he just stared at her with a pained, _hollow_ look.

It was a look she'd find on her own face for most of the months to come.

"What's wrong?" she questioned, her brow furrowing with worry, a moment of inexplicable panic hitting her. Where was the other twin? Had something happened in Europe? "Wait, where's George? Is he ok?"

"George is fine. But Hermione…" Fred began, then stopped suddenly, looking like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"What Fred?"

"When George and I got back, we went to the shop, and Ron was on the floor.. We don't know what happened.. We tried every reviving spell we know. We called emergency healers…"

Hermione was silent for a moment, until feeling a kick from the baby gave her the nerve to speak again.

"But you helped him? He's fine, right? Everything is ok now?" Hermione asked in a somewhat strained voice, dreading the answer. If Ron was fine, he'd be standing in front of her, not Fred. She tried to calm herself, thinking that hormones were making her paranoid, but before she could truly steady herself, Fred spoke again.

"Hermione, he's.. We, they, tried everything, and he's _gone._"

It's impossible to explain the feeling that hit Hermione at that moment. It felt vaguely like having all the bones removed from her body. In later years, Hermione would try to think of an exact word to describe the emotion, but as anyone who's lost a loved one can agree with, she never found the right one.

"Gone?"

Fred nodded silently nodded, and at that moment, Hermione's world stopped turning.

She let out a cry of agony as she realized what the words meant. The next thing she knew, she was crumpled into Fred's arms as the realization hit her again and again and again. Her husband was dead.

&

Now Hermione simply resigned herself to sitting on the sofa, and trying to feel nothing. She was failing miserably. Ron was in everything. He was in the kitchen, laughing at her burnt pancakes, and offering to cook next time. He was in the living room, playing chess, crinkling his nose, thinking of his next move. He was in the small library, draping his arm over her, whispering in her ear.

A simple autopsy spell had determined that Ron's death was caused by a brain aneurysm. When the coroner stated that the cause of death was something so simple, Hermione almost cringed. She and Ron, along with Harry, had faced death many times, by death eaters, mountain trolls, basilisks, and even Voldemort himself!

At the thought of Tom Riddle, the day of the final battle flashed painfully before her eyes and her mind filled with the horrifying reptilian features of the dark wizard. Ron had dueled that snake alongside Harry and Hermione, and lived! It seemed almost wrong that Ron could survive all of that, then go on to die of something so simple…

A knock on the door forced Hermione out of her thoughts. She managed to drag herself to the door and watched her hand turn the knob, opening it so that her escort to the funeral could enter. She found herself irritated that she wasn't able to apparate on her own. She understood that side-along was safer for the baby, and she wasn't going to risk anything on that front, but that didn't stop her from wanting a bit of independence. She was _Hermione _for Merlin's sake…

"Hello Fred," she mumbled, forcing out words and briefly wondering when speaking had become so difficult. She used to be the such a loudmouth. Ron had never ceased to remind her when they were young of just how annoying it was, but over time even that had evolved into something he'd loved about her.

"It's time to go. Are you ready?" Fred asked softly, getting straight to the point.

"No, but that doesn't change anything, does it?" Hermione said bitterly, too strained to notice the look of pain flicker in Fred's eyes.

"No. I don't suppose it does," he grabbed her hand gently, and in a moment they were at the Burrow.

Everyone was meeting there before the funeral, so that they could set up. By the time Hermione arrived, there were already chairs set out, and a casket at the end of an aisle in the middle of the chairs. Immediately Hermione's thoughts shifted back to their wedding, which had taken place in the same spot. She might have laughed at the irony of it all, if only she had the energy to laugh. The first place she'd looked at Ron's face as his wife would also be the last.

"Could I have a minute alone?" Hermione asked quietly, looking up at Fred's face.

"Sure," he said, "We'll wait for you inside, yeah?"

"I'll be inside in a minute," Hermione replied, keeping her voice steady.

Fred gave her a look of concern before heading inside, leaving Hermione alone with the chairs and the casket.

Hermione slowly walked, slightly waddling, to the large oak box, and looked at Ron's face for the last time. She reached a hesitant hand out, wanting to touch him one last time, but held back. She would hold his hand in the next life, when he could hold hers in return. Hermione sadly decided waiting for that day was better, even though at the moment it made her ache. A second after pulling her hand back, she felt a small kick, directly beside her belly button. She put a hand to her stomach, and used the other to wipe away her tears. She had to be strong, because she had another person that needed her to be.

Hermione quietly whispered to Ron, who wasn't really Ron anymore, "I love you. I always have, and I always will. I couldn't stop even if I wanted to."

At that Hermione wiped her eyes, turned around, and made her way into the house.

After walking inside, the first person she saw was Mrs. Weasley, who wrapped Hermione in a fierce hug, holding on to her for as long as she could. When they pulled apart, Hermione saw tears in her mother-in-law's eyes, and knew that some were pooling in her own. The two women stood silently together for a moment, one missing a son, the other mourning for her husband.

"He loved you so much Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said, breaking the silence.

"I know. I loved- love- him too. I don't… I don't know how to do this without him," Hermione found herself saying.

"You'll get through this. We'll get through this as a _family_. If you ever want to talk, or need a place to escape to, you are always welcome here. We love you quite as much as Ron did," Molly stifled a sob as she said her son's name, "And I expect you around just as much as ever once my grandchild gets here." Molly put on a smiling face for Hermione's sake, and the young woman couldn't help but feel guilty. Mrs. Weasley shouldn't have to worry about her when she'd just lost her youngest son.

Hermione hugged her mother in law again. It hit her that as personal as her own pain felt, the whole family was hurting.. She had to be strong for them, and for herself, but how? How could she go on without Ron? How could she spend one more day knowing that she would never see him again?

As the questions overwhelmed her, she saw a flash of unruly black hair, and before she knew it she was being wrapped in another hug.

"Harry…"

"Hermione," Harry said, hanging on to her for another second before letting go. Hermione knew what Harry must be thinking. He'd always assumed, because of that horrid prophecy, that he'd die long before her or Ron. It must be surreal for him, as much as it was for her. Hermione just looked at him like someone who had been stretched too far.

"When do you think I'm going to wake up?" she asked, quietly.

"I think this is real 'Mione…" Harry said, his voice tight.

"How's Ginny taking it? I haven't even seen her yet," Hermione asked, wondering where Ginny was. Ginny had found out she was pregnant around the same time as Hermione, and they'd shared a special bond ever since. Having someone to complain about swollen feet to, as well as someone to shriek with whenever the baby kicked, had been a lot of help over the last seven months.

"She's in shock," Harry replied, his eyes clouding with worry, "Stress and the baby are really taking a toll on her. She's worried about you."

"Me? She needs to focus on herself and the Mini-Potter," Hermione said in an attempt at cheerfulness, or something like it.

"You're her sister. You're mine as well. Of course we're worried about you," Harry replied, "I think everyone is."

"I'm worried about me too," Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper, "But I'll be fine. I have a baby to take care of."

After everyone arrived, the group made their way to the chairs. The funeral was small, with only the order and a few others in attendance. Ron's great auntie Muriel sobbed obnoxiously in the back row, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat as still as stone beside a sniffling Ginny. Hermione sat with them in the front row, pretending to listen to Dumbledore giving the eulogy, while her mind was far away, along with her heart, thinking of the last time she'd seen Ron alive…

A/N- So what do you think of chapter numero one? I wrote a much shorter version about six months ago, and it was abandoned, so now you're getting a look at the much longer, re-vamped version!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- Any characters of locations you recognize, and some you probably don't all belong to JK Rowling.

Some people spend ages trying to remember the last things they said to their loved ones. They're forced to live wondering, and hoping that whatever they said was pleasant, a proper send off. Hermione was lucky in this one respect. She knew the last words she'd ever said to her husband, and his reply.

She'd woken up to the smell of bacon and eggs, her newest food fixation, immediately reaching her. She smiled, looking next to her and seeing that Ron was absent from his side of the bed. She smiled, knowing that her husband had dragged himself out of bed for her, when he most certainly wasn't a morning person. After showering and getting dressed, she walked quietly out to the kitchen and saw Ron removing bacon from a skillet, and putting it on a tray. Making her way across the room she hugged him from behind, and stood on the tips of her toes to him a kiss on the cheek. It was a surprise that she didn't lose her balance, considering her uneven distribution of weight…

"You're making breakfast?" Hermione asked, feigning shock.

"These mad cravings of yours are rubbing off on me," Ron replied jokingly, "And I decided that since we won't have time to eat once Mini-Weasley gets here, we should do it as much as possible. Store up fats, you know?"

"I think I've stored up enough fats to last me through seven children," she said with a laugh, gesturing to her swollen stomach, "I'm as big as a house."

Ron smiled at her, filling a plate with eggs and bacon, "You are definitely not as big as a house. It doesn't matter though. I'd love you if you took up the whole street."

"When did you become so delightfully cheesy?" Hermione asked, smirking.

Ron began to answer when out of nowhere, he winced.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, worried.

"Nothing," Ron said, regaining his composure, "I've got a bit of a migraine. It'll clear up on it's own."

"If you say so," Hermione replied, taking a bite of egg, "This is great, by the way. I somewhat hate you for being a better cook than me."

"There had to be one thing you weren't good at," Ron said in mock exasperation.

"I don't see why," Hermione quipped, finishing her breakfast and then standing up, "But I suppose we'll have to argue that out later. I have to be off to work."

"Alright, just one thing before you go," Ron said, standing himself.

"And that would be?" she asked.

"This," Ron said, grabbing her hand and pulling her close. Hermione found her breath catching, as it always did when she was close to him. Even though it had been almost ten years since they'd met, Hermione was pleased to say that she fell more in love with him every day.

Ron leaned his head down, giving her a soft kiss. He smiled at her as he pulled away, "Ok, now you're free to go off and heal the sick," he said happily. I'll try and close up early today, so that we can do something tonight."

Hermione smiled, "Ok. I'll see you tonight then. I love you."

"And I love you," Ron said, kissing her one more time. After the kiss ended, Hermione smiled at him and left for work, completely unaware that they had just said their last words as man and wife.

&

Hermione pulled the memory up during the funeral, trying to recall every detail of it. She was terrified of losing that last conversation, that last kiss. At the same time, remembering it hurt worse than the cruciatus. Scared to forget, and scared to remember, she found herself in a compromising position.

Her recollections were interrupted by Ginny, who was squeezing Hermione's hand. Looking up from her hands folded in her lap, she saw Harry, Fred, George, Charlie, Bill, and Remus Lupin stand up, and carry the casket to the far side of the green expanse, where Ron was to be buried. Hermione stood as well, hanging on to Ginny's hand for dear life as they walked silently toward the grave. In fact, nobody seemed to speak. Even the baby, who had been moving throughout the funeral, remained still.

Hermione held her breath as the casket was lowered into the ground, and didn't take another breath until she could no longer see the polished wood. So this was it, the final blow. She was now, officially a widow, husband in the ground and all.

&

During the following weeks, Hermione rarely left the flat she had once shared with Ron. It was just too difficult to see the pitying glances that seemed to follow her everywhere. Thanks to a lengthy article in the Daily Prophet, the entire wizarding world seemed to know that Ron Weasley, war hero, had died tragically, leaving behind his pregnant wife. As a result, whenever Hermione saw fit to leave the confines of her flat, she stayed in the muggle world.

Exactly six weeks after Ron's funeral, Hermione decided to take one of her rare journeys into the outside world. Getting dressed in the largest of her maternity clothes, she walked to the door, opening it to see none other than Fred Weasley.

"Fred?" Hermione asked, wondering what he was doing there.

"You remember me? Lovely," Fred said as he stepped over the threshold.

"What do you want?" Hermione inquired, wincing slightly as the question came out harsher than she'd meant for it too.

"Mum wanted me to invite you to dinner tonight," Fred said.

"You could have owled," Hermione said, her voice reverting back to it's (now normal) hollow tone.

"True, but that would have meant that mum wouldn't get a report on how you're doing," Fred replied.

"Well I was just on my way out," Hermione said, "Tell your mother that I'm fine."

Fred didn't bother to mention that she looked anything but fine, and simply asked, "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Where out?" Fred asked, rather insistently.

"I don't know yet. Probably just for lunch."

"Mind if I join you?"

Hermione looked at him, wondering why he couldn't get the hint that she didn't want company. After a moment of staring at his determined face, Hermione shrugged, a gesture of indifference, and walked out the door. Fred walked beside her, making small talk about nothing of importance until they were about a block away from the flat. As they reached an intersection, Hermione turned to her brother-in-law.

"Listen Fred, I don't really feel like chit chatting. If you want to come to lunch with me, be quiet," she said, a twinge of classic Hermione irritation echoing in her voice. Fred simply nodded, and they continued on in silence for another half block, until Hermione motioned to a building and walked inside.

The inside of the building was a cramped but cozy restaurant, with only a few people present. A waitress with strangely bird-like features, and an affinity for smacking her gum loudly, escorted them to a table, setting down two menus before walking away with another loud smack. Hermione knew exactly what she wanted, but still studied the menu as if it were the most interesting thing in London. It was preferable to having a conversation with anyone, including Fred. Unfortunately that didn't stop Fred from speaking once again.

"So how's work?" Fred asked.

"I have six months paid leave. My boss thought I could use the break," Hermione answered, still hollow.

"Well I guess that's good, right? Once Jr. comes along, you'll need to have more time at home," Fred replied.

"I was thinking of quitting altogether," Hermione said.

"Really?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued, "And what would you do?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe open a store? I always wanted to run my own bookshop…" Hermione answered, trailing off.

"Why didn't you?"

"Well people expected more of me. I came out top of my class. People who do that don't go on to-"

"Live in the sludge that is retail?" Fred asked, looking offended.

"Exact- oh! I'm sorry, Fred. That's not what I meant, and you don't just own a store! You and George invent products, and that takes a lot of thought and work, and-"

"Don't worry about it," Fred replied, noticing that for a moment there, Hermione had sounded a bit more, well, like _Hermione, _"I understand."

"Good," Hermione said, giving him a half smile, "So how is Weasley's Wizard Wheezes doing?"

"Better than Hagrid in a dragon nest," Fred replied, "Business is great. George and I are working on some new products. Hopefully they'll be causing mayhem by Christmas."

A few minutes later the bird-waitress-gum smacking hybrid came over and took their orders, and glanced at Hermione for a moment before asking, "How-smack- far along -smack- are you?"

"Eight and a half months," Hermione answered, knowing she certainly looked it.

The waitress then turned to Fred, "Excited -smack- to be a father?" she asked, not sounding two interested.

Hermione blushed for a moment before hastily answering for Fred, "He's my brother in law. My husband couldn't make it today." It was easier to lie than to explain, so Hermione had often taken to doing so.

The waitress suddenly looked interested, "That's so _sweet _of you to take your -smack- sister in law out. Really -smack- _nice."_ Taking another moment to stare at Fred, who was obviously enjoying the attention, she walked away with their orders in hand.

"Honestly," Hermione muttered, "Does she have to chew that damn gum so loudly?"

Fred smirked, "I think it's endearing."

"Shut up," Hermione said, almost in a joking manner. She had to admit that though half an hour ago she'd wanted Fred to just leave her alone, it was nice to communicate with another human being for a bit. She'd gotten horribly lonely, cooped up in the flat, but she just didn't know how she was supposed to go out and spend time with people anymore. If it weren't for Fred inviting himself to lunch, she may have continued in her solitude for considerably longer…

They continued to talk amiably through their meal, until the waitress arrived with their check, mentioning that the place was getting a bit full and that they needed the table. The two paid their respective halves of the bill before walking out. Hermione left with a dog box, and Fred left with the Bird-Waitress's phone number, who ironically, turned out to be named Robin.

"Speaking of names," Fred said as they made their way back to the flat, "Have you decided on one for the sprout?"

"I can't tell," Hermione said, "We decided not to let anyone know until after the baby was born. People can't critisize a name when it already belongs to someone," she said, almost laughing until she realized that, "we," had become a lonely, "I." Feeling an all too familiar wave of hurt, her eyes misted with tears. Raising a hand to wipe them away, she said, "I'm sorry. It's just hard, not having him around. Knowing I can't talk to him about baby things, about anything."

"Don't be sorry," Fred said, "This, what happened.. It isn't something that feels better after just six- a few weeks. It's _ok to miss him. I know I do."_

Hermione sniffled, "When did you get so mature?"

"It sort of snuck up on me," Fred said with a small smile.

"Thank you, Fred. I-" Hermione stopped, grabbing her stomach and wincing.

"What?" Fred said, concerned.

"I think.. I'm… having _contractions_."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- Once again, I deeply apologize for taking so much time to update! Things have been more than a little hectic in my part of the woods… But that isn't the story I'm telling right now. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! Keep 'em coming!

Chapter Three

Hermione wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, seeing as everything was going by her at the speed of light, but somehow, she'd ended up in a hospital bed. Her hand clenching Fred Weasley's as contractions steadily hit her.

"Sorry," she said as the contraction died away, and she let go of Fred's hand, now looking a bit mangled, "That _hurt…_"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Fred replied, jokingly nursing his hand, "And it was my wand hand too," he said, in mock depression.

Hermione snorted, relieved to have a bit of time between contractions to close her eyes. "Thank you, by the way," she said, not opening them, "You've been very cool under pressure."

"Don't worry about it," Fred said, then smirking, "Though I do think I may have channeled my mum a bit too much for comfort."

It had almost been comical, the way he'd become some a sort of mother hen in all of two seconds. Hermione was a bit surprised that he didn't actually peck at the orderly who'd made her fill out a mountain of paperwork before giving her a room.

Hermione was about to respond when another wave of pain hit her. "_God, _that's unpleasant…" she said, wincing. "You'd think that with all we can do as the supernatural, we'd have mastered the art of an epidural by now…"

"Epi-what?"

"Never mind," Hermione said, once again reminded of her upbringing, so opposite of all the Weasleys'. A couple minutes later she spoke again.

"When is the family getting here?"

Almost as though waiting for the perfect moment to burst into the room, Harry and Ginny rushed in. "Hermione! We came as fast as we could. How close are your contractions?" Ginny asked, pushing a stray hair out of her face.

"They're coming closer together," Hermione said, before another wave of pain hit her, causing her to clench Ginny's hand in a death grip. After making a choked sound (eerily similar to a dying cat), Ginny decided to sit in the waiting room with the rest of the family, and Fred followed to tell everyone what was going on, leaving Hermione alone with Harry.

A bit later, as the contraction wore off, Hermione looked wearily at her best friend. "I bet when we met that day, on the Hogwarts express, that you didn't think we'd be here a decade or so later. Did you?" She asked, half joking, half serious.

"A lot of things have happened that I didn't plan on," Harry said softly, looking like he was about to say more, before they were interrupted by a doctor.

Doctor Baudelaire, after examining Hermione (something that never stopped being embarrassing, for both Hermione, and the man in the room with her), declared that the baby would arrive within the next hour, before leaving the room to prepare. Of course, he made it a point to stare at Harry's scar for at least ten seconds straight, before shutting the door behind him.

"Oh my god," Hermione said, as the door closed, "I'm trying to have a bloody baby here, and all he can do is stare at your scar! How am I supposed to get through _giving birth _with a star struck-" Hermione stopped, realizing something that hadn't even come to mind before that moment.

"I don't have a labor partner," Hermione whispered, her voice strained.

"What?" Harry asked.

"A labor partner! A partner with whom I labor. Get the picture?" Hermione asked, about ready to cry, "Ron was supposed to be here for this.. We had it all planned out… We took classes.. We read all of the books!"

"I'll do it," Harry answered without missing a beat, "Look at it as practice for when the mini-potter gets here." Seeing the slightly doubtful look on Hermione's face he quickly added, "Think of it as you doing me a favor."

Hermione smiled softly at her best friend. She felt her eyes mist a bit at the thought of the skinny little boy she'd met on the Hogwarts Express all those year ago had become such a wonderful man. "Thanks Harry," she said, gripping his hand a moment later when another contraction hit, and she let out a string of words that would have mortified the Hermione of ten years before.

Of course, fifteen minutes later, rather than an hour, the time came for the mini-Weasley to make his or hers grand entrance into the world. With a doctor, two mediwitches, and one uncomfortably sweaty intern to assist, Hermione became a mother.

Smiling, the doctor clipped the baby's cord, and swaddled the baby.. "You, Mrs. Weasley," he said, "-are now the proud parent of a healthy baby boy."

"'Mione.. He's perfect," Harry said, his voice husky with emotion, "Perfect."

Hermione held her arms out for the little boy that was half of her and Ron, holding him carefully when the doctor handed him to her, like she was afraid he was going to disappear. "Hello little one," she whispered softly, counting ten fingers and toes, and noticing the small tuft of orange-red hair on his head.

It seemed odd to her, that in the course of a few seconds, the world could shift in so many different way. In a second she'd gone from happily married, to a widow, and just as quickly, she'd become something else entirely. Hermione Granger had become a mum. This was one shift, Hermione decided, that was utterly and completely welcome.

A small tear slid down Hermione's cheek as she held the crying baby closer to her. She planted a small kiss on his forehead before looking up at Harry. "You're right," she said, looking down again, "Thank you, Harry."

Harry didn't need to ask what for. The purple-blue hue his hand had taken said enough. "No problem," he replied, patting Hermione's shoulder softly, before leaving the room alongside the doctor, mediwitches, and the sweaty intern.

Hermione smiled down at her son, taking in the parts on him that were hers, like the shape of his eyes. Then some things definitely belonged to Ron, like the orangey fuzz on top of his head. Some things however, seemed to belong uniquely to the baby, like his button nose.

Hermione suddenly felt the emptiness of the room. The mental picture of the man who should have been standing beside her, right at that moment, was enough to make a few more tears fall from her eyes. This was so unfair.. That the baby, her and Ron's son, would grow up without knowing his father… Ron would never teach him to play quidditch, or give him girl advice. He would never read their son a bedtime story. He would never be waiting at King's Cross with Hermione to take their son home for the holidays. Ron was dead.

Before Hermione could let herself sink any further into the abyss of her loss, Molly Weasley bustled into the room, with her husband not far behind.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley cried, running to her side, "Let me see him… I want a good long look at my first grandson." Hermione smiled softly, gently handing her son to her mother in law. Molly, sitting down in the chair next to the bed, stared into the little boy's face, cooing at him softly, "Hello baby.. I'm your grand-ma-ma.. I've wanted to meet you for so long now…"

Hermione looked away from Molly for a moment, to Arthur, who was still standing in the doorway. Slowly, he walked over to Hermione, squeezing her hand softly as he stepped beside her, looking across the bed at his grandson.

"He has his ears," Arthur whispered, not loud enough for Molly to hear.

"And his mouth," Hermione added, just as quietly, "That too…"

"He's so small…"

"He'll get bigger," Hermione said with a small smile, "Do you want to hold him?"

"I won't tear him away from Molly just yet," Arthur said with a small smile of his own.

Hermione looked back to Molly, who had grown quiet during Hermione and Arthur's small conversation. It didn't take much to know what she was thinking about. She could see her own little boy in this infant's face as easily as Hermione or Arthur had. Hermione noticed her eyes glass over with unshed tears as she handed the baby back, promising to come back in a little bit; but for now, there were a lot of other people who wanted to meet the mini-weasley.

Before Molly was completely out the door, she turned around. "I feel a bit silly for asking you now, but what is his name?"

Hermione smiled softly, remembering the day she and Ron had picked out the baby's name…

_They'd been in the park, for some reason she couldn't remember, probably just wanting a breath of fresh air.. When of course, the baby name topic reared it's ugly head. _

_They'd been bickering over names for the last week, without coming up with something they could both tolerate. Somewhere in the middle of explaining to Ron why she wasn't going to name her child Vladimir, no matter how amazing the Hungarian quidditch player was, a name popped into her head. _

"_What do you think?" she asked Ron, after sharing the name with him._

"_I like it," he said with a smile. "Wow."_

"_What?" Hermione asked._

"_We're having a baby. And now he's got a name."_

_Hermione smiled, kissing her husband softly on the lips. "Yeah," she said, looking into his eyes, "We are, and he does."_

The young woman looked up, almost completely lost in her recollection of Ron's face, his voice.

"Ian," she said, smiling softly as she looked down at her baby, "Ian Samuel Weasley."

A/n- So there you have it, chapter three… I hope you all enjoyed it! Please review and let me know what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing around in the enormous park of her imagination here. **_

Chapter Three

Three months later, Hermione found herself bustling about in the kitchen of her flat. The TV, now repaired, was playing some old film quietly in the back ground while she prepared a late night bottle for Ian. The baby, at that moment, was fussing in his levitating cradle, just a few feet from where his mother stood checking the temperature of his snack by dripping the warm liquid onto the inside of her wrist. Pausing for a moment, Hermione turned to give her son his pacifier to suckle while he waited for his bottle.

He was beautiful, and almost perfectly behaved, with the exception of his late-night fussiness. His eyes had faded from that newborn blue to a dusky shade of brown that looked inquisitively at everything around him, and his small tuft of orange-red hair had only grown brighter. He was perfectly round and chubby, but his long frame showed that he would definitely take after his father in height. All in all, he was three fifths Ron, and two fifths Hermione.

Hermione loved her son with the patient compassion that only a parent is truly capable of, and found that loving Ian the way she did helped her deal with losing Ron.

She still ached for her husband every moment of the day, but now there was a reason to get out of bed in the morning, and that reason was her little boy. Ron was gone… and the very thought was enough to send her into torrents of tears at odd moments, or force her to scream into her pillow every night, but Ian was there, and needed her. So eventually, when despair threatened to destroy her, she wiped her tears away, took her face out of her pillow, and took care of her boy.

Satisfied that the bottle was the proper temperature, Hermione set it on the counter, and gingerly took her son from the levitating cradle. Taking the bottle once again with her free hand, the young woman walked around the kitchen in circles, feeding the baby.

"How are you always so hungry?" Hermione cooed with a small smirk, "Where does all that food go?"

Hermione gave a small grimace at the thought of Ian's almost constantly smelly diapers. She knew where it all went. With a small laugh, she continued.

"You're just like daddy. He was _always _hungry!" she said with a bittersweet smile, "He used to drag me out of bed to a restaurant down the street, in the middle of the night, mind you, just so that we could split a pizza. I didn't mind though," she continued, "Because when you were in mummy's tummy, you made me hungry _all _the time."

Ian seemed to love the sound of his mother's voice. Some nights, Hermione read him _Hogwarts, A History _out loud until he fell asleep in her arms and she put him to bed. Of course, reading that particular book brought back a thousand memories of her time at Hogwarts, with Ron and Harry, so some nights she simply read medical journals aloud instead. Hermione didn't want to be out of the loop when she eventually returned to work, and there was rarely anything in the journals that brought Ron to mind.

Hermione continued to babble at Ian for another few minutes as he emptied the bottle, and kept it up until she finished burping him and put him back to bed. Sighing, she attempted to go to bed, but couldn't force herself to keep her eyes closed. Sleeping in her bed alone still felt horribly wrong, and most nights, the young widow found herself sleeping on Ron's side of the bed, just so she wouldn't have to see it empty in the morning. And that was when she managed sleep at all, which wasn't very often.

Eventually she gave up on sleep, and returned to the kitchen. She reached lightly into the back cupboard, pulling out a bottle of scotch. She didn't even like scotch, but since it was Ron's drink of choice, she often found herself making a nightcap of it once Ian was in bed. She didn't drink in excess, but a glass now and then dulled the pain, if only for an hour or two, and helped her get some sleep as well.

As she poured herself a glass and dropped in a couple of ice cubes, Hermione couldn't help but think of Ron. He would have been so in love with their son. She could practically see him playing with him, feeding him; being an amazing father….

Before Hermione could think any more of "what ifs" there was a knock on the door. Taking her glass, and making sure her wand was in her sleeve, she edged toward the door. Who could possibly feel the need to drop by at that hour? Looking out the spy-hole, she sighed, and opened the door.

As she opened the door, Fred Weasley stumbled in, giggling and more drunk than Hermione had ever seen him. He looked completely disheveled, and smelt strongly of the same brand of scotch in Hermione's glass. Setting her own glass on the table, she turned and stared at Fred for a moment, now fallen on the floor, before helping him up.

"Would you please keep it down Fred?" she asked as he loudly thanked her for helping him, and letting him in at this hour, "I've _just _gotten Ian back to bed."

"Sooooorry," Fred said with an exaggerated whisper. "I din't mean to wahk up theee meenie Weee-"

"Fred," Hermione interrupted, "What are you doing at my house?"

"I… I wanted…" Fred said, attempting to articulate as well as he could in such a drunken state, "to.. Seeee.. Him."

"Ian? It's the middle of the night, Fred. Ian's asleep. I already told you that-"

"No.. Ronnn.. I.. got in a… fight.. With… Aaangelina.. Wanted to.. Taalk.. About it…"

"Ron's dead, Fred," Hermione said with a cool tone. It felt like a knife, stabbing her in the stomach, but there was nothing else to say. Ron was _dead._

"I knoow.. I .. I.. Forget sometimes… Sometimes.. I just-"

"You're lucky then," Hermione said with a sigh. "I wish I could forget so easily." She quickly transformed a nearby newspaper into a blanket, and a coaster off the coffee table into a pillow for her brother in law. "Go to sleep now, ok?" she said with yet another sigh, "We'll talk in the morning."

"Allllright," Fred said, closing his eyes softly, and snoring before they'd been closed a minute.

Hermione stood up, looking at her brother in law for a moment before realizing that she felt like sleeping herself, and slipped into her room, where she crawled into bed, sleeping once again on Ron's side, and missing her husband more than ever.

&&&&&

Fred woke up the next morning to the smell of toast, the sound of a baby crying, and a splitting headache. After a moment of confusion, he realized where he was and instantly felt embarrassed. He'd thought showing up at Hermione's was a dream, but it obviously hadn't been.

"Oh, you're up," a voice said, interrupting Fred's thoughts. Upon looking up, he realized it was Hermione herself, looking none too pleased.

"Um, yeah," he said with a small attempt at a smile, noticing that Ian was hovering only a few feet away from them. "Wow. He's gotten big, hasn't he?"

"Yes, he has," Hermione said with a sigh, "I made you a hangover potion. It's in the kitchen, and you should probably have some toast too. Those potions are awful on an empty stomach."

"Thanks," Fred said, going into the kitchen and taking hold of the small vial sitting on the counter. He downed the murky green liquid within and grabbed a piece of toast as well, taking a quick bite.

Not wanting to walk back into the living room just yet, Fred looked around the kitchen and took another bite of toast. After a moment of inspection, he noticed a half-full bottle of scotch on the counter-top. When had Hermione ever drank anything other than Butterbeer?

"A few weeks after Ian was born," Hermione said, upon entering the room and seeing him stare at the bottle. "I don't drink often. I was just having a glass before bed when you showed up last night. I forgot to put the bottle away."

Fred looked at Hermione for a moment as she spoke. She seemed fine on the surface, but there was something, upon really looking at her, that was _wrong_. She smiled as she spoke, well, a little at least, and her eyes weren't red with tears or anything. All in all she seemed perfectly put together… She just seemed worn, like all of her _spark_ had disappeared. Her eyes, usually lively, seemed hollow, like they had seen too much, and decided to just stop seeing at all.

After an awkward silence, Fred spoke, "Listen, Hermione, I'm really sorry for just showing up last night. Angelina arrived out of the blue, and started talking about getting back together, and of course we fought… So it was just a bloody awful night. But anyway, let me make it up to you." He gave her one of his trademark smiles, "I'll take you and Ian out for a day in Hogsmeade. How does that sound?"

Hermione looked at Fred blankly, "It's too cold. Ian could get sick."

"Hermione, it's July. He's going to be fine. Besides, there's a new children's store that opened last month. I'll buy him something for the Order meeting next month. A little fun won't turn Ian into a duffer like Uncle Freddy, will it, Ian?" Fred said, directing the last part of his speech to Ian, in his levitating cradle.

Hermione sighed. She had been wanting to check out that store, and Ian could use more clothes. He was growing so fast that she was quickly running out of things to dress him in.

She'd completely forgotten about the meeting. She hadn't been to one since… And these days, anyway, the meetings mostly revolved around tracking death eaters who were not in Azkaban now that the war was over.

"Fine," she said, not looking too happy. She wanted Fred to feel ashamed about last night for at least another minute or two, but she supposed getting out of the house for a couple hours wouldn't kill her and Ian. Besides, Ian would like some time outside. "We'll go, but you're buying him shoes to go with the outfit."

"Deal," Fred said with a smile. "You get Ian ready. I'll run home, change, and be right back."

"Fine," Hermione replied, picking her son up out of the cradle, and taking him into the other room to change him into his day clothes. "Be fast," she called over her shoulder.

"I will," Fred called back, before apparating to his apartment. Soon, however, he was back, Ian was dressed, and the three of them flooed to Hogsmeade, unaware that the day they were about to have would change their lives forever.

_**A/N: Hello, Lovies. Sorry it took me so long to write this chapter! Being a senior in high school is frustratingly busy, but I have the next chapter outlined, and it will be up soon. They'll be a bit more action in Chapter Five. J This one was a bit of a filler, and proof that I'm still, in fact, writing! **_

_**I hope you like the story so far. Please make sure to leave a review, letting me know what you all think! **_


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Readers,

I would like to start by apologizing for not posting in almost two (gasp!) years.

About a month after I last updated, my life took several unexpected turns that made writing difficult. Long story short, the last time I worked on this project I was a fairly typical high schooler, and now I am a college student, mom, and wife to be.

I feel like I'm at a point in my life where I can write this story from a more real and legitimate perspective. The last two years have involved a lot of change, grief, love, and most of all, hope, which is really what _Breathe Again_ is all about.

Thank you to those who have patiently waited for new chapters, and welcome to any newcomers! I am working on the "real" chapter five right now, which will be up within the next couple of weeks.

-NB


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